


Paint It In Love

by LegitimateTrash



Category: GOT7
Genre: 6+1 Fic, Everyone is insecure, GOT7 deserves a hug, Gen, bambam fashion icon, basically they paint their nails and talk about feelings, just pretend they all still live in the dorm for the sake of the fic, squint and there's yugbam, we love a good therapy session
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegitimateTrash/pseuds/LegitimateTrash
Summary: BamBam shows love in lots of ways. Sometimes it’s teasing, sometimes it’s a fist bump here or a high five there, and sometimes he just straight up says it.Other times, he paints people’s nails.
Relationships: Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Everyone
Comments: 26
Kudos: 78





	1. Golden

**Author's Note:**

> So many feelings. All the feelings. This is just a random thought dump told through the boys.

BamBam doesn’t do it on purpose, not really, it just sort of happens.

Like most weird traditions in GOT7, it starts with Jackson.

_

“Look how nice they are,” BamBam exclaims, bounding into the dorm living room and plopping down beside Jinyoung, shoving his hands in the other's face. He wiggles his fingers around to show off the freshly dried polish. They’re bright red with little swirls of black and one of them even has a sparkle. 

Jinyoung looks up from his book. “They’re good,” he acknowledges, smiling, and turns back to his book.

BamBam nods. “Damn straight they are. I’ve been watching tutorials all day, and honestly, if this idol thing doesn’t work out, I’m gonna become a Guru.”

Jinyoung nods, already not paying attention. He flips his page. “That’s nice, honey.”

BamBam huffs. He painted his nails specifically to match his freshly dyed red hair and they look _incredible_ and he needs someone to validate him, like, now.

Youngjae and Jaebeom are out today, Yugyeom is facetiming his mom, and Mark is still asleep even though it’s two in the afternoon. Looks like Jackson it is.

“Jackson-hyunggg,” BamBam sing songs, leaping up from the couch and going into the kitchen where Jackson is eating. 

Jackson smiles, his mouth full of day old fried chicken. “Want some?” he mumbles around the half chewed mouthful. 

BamBam’s lip curls in disgust. “Ew, no. Close your mouth. I just wanted to show you my nails.”

He presents his hand, and Jackson immediately takes it, his eyebrows raising. “Whoa, this is so cool, Bam. You’re like, an actual artist or something.”

BamBam grins, pleased with the reaction. “This was nothing,” he says, preening under the spotlight.

Jackson swallows and squints closer at BamBam’s nails. “No really, these are great. Can you paint mine?” 

BamBam blinks in surprise. “You want me… to paint your nails?”

Jackson shrugs, shovelling more chicken in his mouth. “I mean only if you want to, of course.”

BamBam bounces on the balls of his feet. “Of course I want to!” he squeals, “I have just the colour for you too!” He claps his hands together before narrowing his eyes and pointing an accusatory finger at Jackson. “But no chicken sauce anywhere near my art. Wash your hands and then come meet me in my room.”

So that’s how BamBam ends up on his bed on a lazy Sunday afternoon, painting Jackson’s nails. He starts with a dark red base and then adds a little golden crown to every second finger.

“I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised because you’ve always been good at drawing, but really Bam, this is crazy good,” Jackson compliments him again.

BamBam blushes a little bit. “If I’m honest, I’m surprised you wanted me to paint them for you. I thought you might think it’s...too girly or something,” he trails off.

Jackson stiffens, furrowing his eyebrows. “Hey,” he says, grabbing BamBam’s attention so that the younger boy looks up at him. “I would never.”

BamBam bites his bottom lip. “I don’t know. I’ve seen the comments on twitter, and even the nice ones still think it’s _feminine._ ‘Breaking gender norms’ and all that. I don’t know, I’m not trying to make a statement, I just think they look nice.”

Jackson nudges BamBam’s knee with his own. “Don’t get too caught up in all that,” he says firmly. “You can wear whatever you want, whenever you want.”

BamBam goes over the gold polish again so it pops more, glad he has a task so that Jackson doesn’t see the way his eyes have become a little glossy. “Thanks.”

Jackson nods, his eyes slipping closed momentarily before he blinks them back open, shaking himself a bit. 

BamBam clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Don’t squirm, I’ll mess them up.”

Jackson tries to stay still. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

BamBam looks away from Jackson's hands to study his face and notices the dark eye bags. He grimaces in sympathy. “I forgot you had those Team Wang meetings last night. Our promotions during the day and your stuff at night? The lack of sleep must be killing you.”

Jackson shrugs, muffling a yawn. “It was worth it. Besides, I’m kinda used to it by now.”

The statement, while not untrue, is concerning in its own right. BamBam sometimes forgets how hard Jackson works, how much of himself he gives. He runs on too little sleep far too often.

“You’ve gotta start taking better care of yourself, man. Work isn’t everything.”

Jackson scoffs like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s heard all day. “Of course it is. I love what I do and I want to make sure I do it really, really well.”

BamBam holds Jackson’s sleepy gaze. “Which is admirable. I love that about you, because you always put in a hundred and ten percent. But-”

How do you tell someone that they’re being a self-sacrificing idiot without coming off as mean?

“-but you’re being a self-sacrificing idiot.”

Well. BamBam and Jackson have always had that in common, the whole speaking without thinking thing.

Jackson chuckles lightly. “You sound like Jinyoung,” he points out.

BamBam raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Yeah, well maybe you should start listening to him then. I’m serious, you do so much for us and it’s not healthy to have habits like this.”

Jackson clicks his tongue. “I wouldn’t say they’re _habits_ -”

“Don’t give me that shit. You’re the one that said you’re used to this. Sounds like a habit to me. I just-” He sighs and squeezes Jackson’s wrist, careful not to smudge the polish, “I want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Because I know that sometimes you forget, and I know that sometimes even when you remember, you choose to forget.”

Jackson looks down at his feet guiltily. His light pink hair falls into his eyes. He looks about sixteen years old, tired and acting like his mom just scolded him for playing outside without a jacket. Vaguely, BamBam wonders what youth elixir is being slipped into the hyungline’s food, because they all manage to look younger than him when they want to.

“Look Jackson, I’m not saying it’s only you. We all tend to go a little work crazy sometimes, myself included. Just promise me you’ll try, okay? To take better care of yourself?”

Jackson looks up slowly, big tired puppy eyes locking on BamBam’s. “I’ll try.”

BamBam knows that’s all he’s gonna get right now. It’s not awe-inspiring, but it’s a start.

“I’m almost done anyway, why don’t you lean over here,” BamBam suggests, positioning Jackson so he’s against the headboard, “And close your eyes for a second while I finish up?” 

Jackson looks like he’s gonna protest but then BamBam rubs his thumb lightly over the back of Jackson’s hand. 

The older boy’s heavy eyelids slip shut. “Fine. Just for a few seconds. Wake me up when you’re done,” he reminds.

BamBam hums in agreement and finishes up the last nail, sticking the brush back in the jar. When BamBam takes his hand away from Jackson’s, Jackson’s eyes flutter. Quickly, BamBam takes Jackson’s hand back in his own, continuing to trace little shapes into his skin.

Jackson relaxes again and slumps further down on BamBam’s bed. 

BamBam doesn’t wake him up until long after the polish has dried and the lines have smoothed out on Jackson’s face.

_

So that was the first time. It was nice. Cathartic in a way they both needed. 

The second time happens almost as randomly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you liked, and if you want me to write more in the future. I hope you enjoyed!  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/demontuan)


	2. Yellow

Youngjae is probably going to regret this. 

“Hey, Bam?” Youngjae calls, popping his head into BamBam’s room, “Do you have a second?”

BamBam looks up from his laptop. “Yeah, I’m just trying to email manager-hyung about something.” There’s an incessant clickclickclick as BamBam jams his finger on the refresh button. “Has our wifi always been this bad?”

Youngjae laughs and perches himself on the edge of BamBam’s bed. “Unfortunately yes.”

“Damn. It do be like that sometimes. Anyway,” BamBam drawls, spinning his rolling chair away from the tiny desk to face his bed, “What’s up?”

“I need your advice.”

BamBam’s eyes sparkle. “Love advice? Ah, I knew this day would come. So young,” he sniffs dramatically, putting a hand over his heart, “So innocent. You’re smart coming to me with this instead of Jaebeom. God knows how awkward that conversation would be. Okay so first things first, you gotta make sure you have enough lube, and then-”

Youngjae’s eyes widen comically. There’s that regret coming into play. He’s going to be the first idol to die from embarrassment.

Youngjae rushes to correct him, “Oh my god, no!” he yelps, cheeks heating up. “I can handle that for myself, thanks. I need _fashion_ advice. I have an audition for another acting role and I want to look my best.”

As much as BamBam looks disappointed at not getting to play cupid, he looks equally as excited at the word _fashion_. “Well, you’ve still come to the right person. I’ll have you looking gorgeous in no time. What’s the role?”

Youngjae shows him the casting info and BamBam nods, running a mental check in his head. 

He closes his laptop before bounding off into the hallway, which makes Youngjae think that this is going to be a longer process than he originally thought. Dutifully, he follows the younger boy into his own room.

BamBam has already started going through Youngjae’s closet, ripping things off hangers and tossing them into piles on the floor.

“No,” BamBam flings item after item to the ground, all seemingly unworthy, “Nope, no, no, is this...this is mine isn't it? I’m taking this back. Nope, definitely no. Ooo cute, but not for this, no- Oh! This is the one,” BamBam declares, pulling a sunshine yellow crewneck out of Youngjae’s closet. “You did a photoshoot in this right? You looked amazing.”

Youngjae feels his eyes scrunch up at the completement. “Thanks.” He takes the sweater from BamBam and holds it up to his body. “Is that it though? I know it’s a plain role but shouldn’t I like, accessorize or something?”

BamBam mimics wiping a tear from his eyes. “They grow up so fast,” he sniffs, voice high pitched and teasing. “But the answer is yes, definitely.” He takes a look at Youngjae, sizing him up. “No necklaces, but rings might be nice. And earrings but only studs, nothing dangly.”

He walks around Youngjae in a circle. Youngjae guesses that this is what it might feel like if your mom was helping you get ready for a school dance. If your mom was annoying, and gay, and also a guy. Anyway.

“It’s missing something,” BamBam is saying, tapping a finger against his lip. “How ‘bout I paint your nails? I have a nice bright yellow that would look great.”

“Paint them?” Youngjae repeats.

BamBam shrugs, the tiniest hint of hesitation flickering across his face before it’s gone. “Yeah. It’ll show that you put effort into this, all matchy-matchy and everything.”

Youngjae considers. Why not, right? It’s not like he has anything to lose. If the casting company isn’t cool with a dude wearing nail polish then he doesn’t want to work with them anyway. “Yeah. Okay,” he agrees. “Nothing too extravagant though.”

BamBam grins and grabs Youngjae’s arm, tugging him back into his bedroom. “I won’t, don’t worry. We’re going very simplistic. Minimalist plant-boy vibes.”

Youngjae doesn't really know what any of that means, but he laughs anyway. “Sure, whatever you say.”

_ 

Youngjae has to admit, BamBam really is very good at this. He’s gentle but precise, and the colour is perfect; a nice yellow that makes Youngjae think of warm summer days spent at Han River with Coco and all the members.

BamBam is completely done with one hand when he says offhand, “You’re gonna be pretty busy now, huh? First idol radio, and then the Netflix role, and now this?”

“You’re acting like I’ve already got the part,” Youngjae shakes his head. “I haven’t even done an in-person audition. Just sent in a video.”

BamBam clicks his tongue. “Don’t be modest. The first round of casting is always the hardest to get through. The fact that they invited you to an in-person is good news. And after they hear your contagious laughter, it’ll be all over.”

As if on cue, Youngjae laughs at how ridiculous BamBam is being. “Whatever. I don’t want to count my chickens before they lay eggs.”

“Still,” BamBam shrugs. “You have to plan for something like this so you don’t stretch yourself too thin. You’ve really been throwing yourself out there lately.”

“Gotta make up for the comeback somehow.”

BamBam glances up from Youngjae’s nails to study the older boy’s face. He frowns at whatever he sees. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“This comeback,” Youngjae says casually. “I was only in like, a third of the music video. And even the parts I was in were subpar at best.”

BamBam points the nail brush at Youngjae accusatorily. “Okay first, your parts were not _‘subpar’,_ they were really good. And second, the reason you were missing was because you were _injured_ , which by the way, no one blames you for. We’re just glad you’re okay.”

Youngjae nods automatically, like he’s just agreeing to agree, not because he actually believes it. “Sure, but the release date kept getting pushed back because of me.” He looks at the floor, keeping his gaze down. “It just feels like I somehow let all our ahgases down. Which is why I wanna do so much now, so that I can give them the content they deserve.”

BamBam continues to look at Youngjae, even if the other boy won’t meet his eyes.“Youngjae, the date was getting pushed back anyway. Don’t you remember how pissed we all were when the company told us?” (Understatement of the year, and also, coincidentally, the reason BamBam started working out so much. Nothing blows off steam like slamming a punching bag for hours on end.) “That’s not on you.”

“It feels like it is.”

“Well it’s not,” BamBam says, and then cringes because that came out harsher than he meant it to. He softens his voice. “I can’t tell you how to feel man, but you should know that you really shined this comeback, and everyone noticed. You’ve put in an insane amount of work and no one feels like you let them down.” He knocks his knee against Youngjae’s. “Where’s that confidence that everyone finds so sexy?”

Youngjae snorts and BamBam makes an offended noise. “I’m serious, you should look at the comments section on the video. Everyone was straight thirsting for you. Which is crazy,” he teases, “‘cause I was right there, but no it was all, _Youngjae-oppa this,_ and _Youngjae-oppa that_.”

Youngjae’s head falls back in laughter.

BamBam grins. “Really though. You’ve always poured so much talent into our songs and choreographies, and people are finally praising you for it. Now you just have to believe them.”

Youngjae wants to believe it. He’s- he’s been trying to believe it. Sometimes, reassurance is nice though. “Yeah?”

BamBam nods. “Yeah.” He caps the nail polish and leans back. “Now take a look.”

_

Youngjae smiles. He goes to his audition the next day, and when he feels the butterflies squirming around in his stomach, he looks down at his bright yellow nails and remembers to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/demontuan)


	3. Purple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda went off on this chapter bc Mark deserves better.

“We watched that last time,” Jackson whines, trying to steal the remote away from Youngjae.

Youngjae holds the remote over his head, just out of Jackson’s reach. “So? It’s a cinematic masterpiece.”

Jackson turns to Jinyoung. “A little help?” 

Jinyoung snorts from where he’s cross-legged on the couch, watching the action go down. “No way, this is just getting good.”

Jackson turns his gaze to Jaebeom. The leader raises his hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me, today was crazy busy, I’m off the clock.”

“But Jaebeom-hyunggg-” Youngjae pouts.

Yugyeom, because he is clearly a mature adult, marches up to the pair and plucks the remote out of Youngjae’s grip with ease before plunking himself back down. 

Youngjae’s mouth hangs open. 

“No fair,” Jackson whines, “Just because you’re freakishly tall doesn’t mean you get to use it against us.”

Yugyeom laughs. “I just did.” He turns to Mark and BamBam. “Any input?”

“I’m good with whatever,” BamBam shrugs.

“Mark-hyung?”

Mark looks out from the hood of his sweater, straightening up from where he was hunched into the cushions. “You pick what you want, Gyeom. I’m actually pretty tired, think I’m gonna turn in early.”

Jinyoung shoots Mark a concerned look as the older boy stands up. “It’s only nine.”

Mark ignores the statement and pulls his sweater sleeves down over his hands. “Goodnight guys,” he says instead, disappearing off to his room before anyone can stop him.

Yugyeom shrugs and flicks on the tv. “Looks like we’re watching my k-drama.”

_

BamBam sits through about twenty minutes of overdone tropes before he rolls himself off of Yugyeom’s lap and stands up. BamBam thinks it’s cute that Yugyeom likes these cliche romantic shows so much, but tonight he’s got other things on his mind.

One thing in particular. 

Yugyeom tears his eyes away from the screen and tugs on BamBam’s hand. “Where’re you going?” he whispers. 

“Nowhere. To bed. See you in the morning.”

Yugyeom squeezes his hand once before letting him go. “Okay, goodnight.”

BamBam heads down the hall but instead of going into his room, he goes to the room at the end of the hall. The door is predictably shut, and BamBam contemplates knocking. He knows if he does though, Mark will either tell him to go away or pretend to be asleep. 

Against his better judgement, he pushes open the door and braces, waiting for the reaction.

When he isn’t immediately yelled at, BamBam cracks open one eye and then the other. The room is completely dark except for the light coming in from the hallway. BamBam is just able to make out a figure lying curled up on the bed, facing away from BamBam, buried underneath a pile of sweaters and blankets.

“Uhm.. hey,” BamBam says lamely, “Are you awake?”

The pile of blankets says nothing and BamBam thinks that maybe Mark really _is_ asleep until he hears a quiet sniffle.

“Mark?” BamBam calls out softly.

Again there’s no answer, but he hears another choked little breath, like the older boy is trying to muffle his crying.

BamBam sighs and sits down on the bed. “C’mon, hyung, I know you’re awake. You can stop pretending.”

Reluctantly, Mark rolls over, turning to face BamBam. “Was the movie that bad?” he asks, voice shaky, “Did they cave and let Youngjae choose again?”

BamBam laughs. “No, it was one of Yugyeom’s sappy romance shows.”

Mark chuckles wetly. “Explains why you left early.”

BamBam laughs again and nods, wishing that he could just sit here and joke with Mark, because it’s been a long fucking day and he doesn’t really think he can deal with all of Mark’s stupidly high emotional walls without getting emotional himself. 

But Mark is Mark. And at the end of the day, he’s family.

So first things first, he needs to actually be able to see the older boy, because most of Mark’s communication is done without talking, and BamBam kinda needs all the pieces of the puzzle. 

“As much as I love this whole dark-and-sexy fifty shades of grey atmosphere, you think I could turn on a light? I can’t see shit in here.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and instead flips the switch up before coming back to sit on the bed. In the light, Mark looks even more miserable than he sounded. “You’ve been quiet,” BamBam points out, “And not just today. This whole week.”

Mark raises an eyebrow at him.

BamBam rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. _Extra_ quiet. Don’t give me that look. You haven’t been like this with us in years. Is everything okay?”

Mark wipes his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Yeah, of course.”

BamBam resists the urge to facepalm. He doesn’t even know why he bothers asking anymore. It’s not like he’ll get a real answer. Clearly, communication and self-preservation are not on the list of mandatory idol skills, because everyone in this group sucks at them. 

Even if Mark’s eyes weren’t red and tear stained, BamBam still wouldn’t have believed him. But he also knows that Mark won’t willingly talk. 

BamBam pushes up off the bed and heads to the door. He turns back to Mark. “Stay here,” he warns, before jogging to the bathroom. He pulls open his drawer (who is he kidding, they’re all his drawers now, his stuff is everywhere) and rummages around, little bottles clinking together. Pulling out a dark purple, he goes back into Mark’s room and settles himself on the blankets.

Mark looks back and forth between the bottle and BamBam before sitting up against the headboard and sticking his hand out. Which is currently in a sweater paw. 

Mark flushes a bit and they both laugh as Bambam rolls up the sleeve so he can see Mark’s hand. Mark sits, and BamBam paints while trying to come up with a way to get Mark to open up. Mark’s phone buzzes every couple of minutes, and the fourth time it happens he winces and uses his un-painted hand to turn his phone off completely. Even then he still looks at it nervously, like it might buzz even when it’s off.

BamBam sees this, starts on Mark’s left hand, and thinks that maybe, he knows what this is about after all.

“I know the other members might be technology challenged grandpas, but I’m not. I saw all that shit on twitter and it was way out of line.”

Mark shrugs in a way that’s too practiced to be causal. “People say dumb stuff on the interent all the time. I’m sure they didn’t mean it.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

Mark sighs. “No,” he considers, “I guess it doesn’t.” 

BamBam starts on a second coat. “I know it probably doesn’t seem like it, but it might help if you talk about it.” He waves the brush in the air. “Or like, at least complain. I bitch to Yugyeom all the time when I get hate and it always makes me feel better.”

Mark looks at the ceiling. “This album is just… special to me. We’ve all put in so much work and I was proud of how it turned out. It kept getting pushed back and then we finally got to release it and I was just _happy._ Happy about our achievements and somehow that turned into a bad thing.”

“People always like to stir up shit when we drop new music,” BamBam agrees, shaking his head. “All the real fans know that you were just excited.”

Mark’s fingers twitch, and Bambam can tell that if his hands weren’t in BamBam’s, being covered in polish, he would be playing with his sweater sleeves, a nervous habit he’s had since trainee days.

“It’s not even just this album though. I thought... I thought when we were older things would change.” He lowers his gaze from the ceiling to look at BamBam. “But it’s the same shit. For you and Jacks too. ‘Global band’, ‘Worldwide Act’; they use our diversity to build us up, but at the end of the day when the tower falls, the ones on the bottom are always the foreigners.”

BamBam pauses. Everything Mark said is true. And it...sucks. Sucks that even within their dysfunctional little family there’s an inherent bias. To the ‘real’ children, not the adopted ones. 

“You know, I used to hate my complexion _so much_ when we first debuted,” BamBam recalls, “Everyone was so perfect and pale, and then there I was with my dumb high pitched voice and my dumb dark skin.”

“BamBam,” Mark frowns, placing a hand on top of the younger boy’s.

BamBam shakes his head. “It’s different now. I don’t mind being the darkest one, standing out more. I’m proud actually, because I look at myself and I see my mom, and my siblings, and all my friends. I see Thailand, and I am so incredibly proud that I get to represent it.”

The look in Mark’s eyes can only be described as fond. “I’m proud of you too, Bam.”

“I know,” BamBam smiles. And he does. Mark knew him when he was just that skinny insecure kid, and he’s been there every step of the way to watch him grow into the man he is today. “But I also know that there’s always gonna be someone there to make fun of our pronunciation or laugh at our accents. That when we go outside and get a little sun and our skin glows more golden, people will take that beauty and turn it into something ugly.”

BamBam finishes the last nail and looks up at Mark, taking in his expression- protective boarding on dangerous. “You guys don’t deserve it,” Mark says, fire in his voice.

It doesn’t escape BamBam how Mark phrases it. _You guys_ , not _we._ Like maybe some small part of Mark’s brain thinks that he _does_ deserve it. 

“You don’t either. Just because you’re the oldest, the most laid-back, doesn’t mean that you can’t feel hurt. People can be cruel, especially when they have their anonymity to hide behind.”

Mark’s eyes look suspiciously wet but BamBam doesn’t say anything. 

“I just-” Mark starts, “I don’t know what I did to make them hate me.”

BamBam’s stomach twists. Mark sounds so small, so confused. In this moment, BamBam thinks that maybe he actually understands the saying, “makes your blood boil,” because the anger that rises up in him is so real that it’s a physical heat. He’s burning with a sense of unfairness, a sense of utter wrongness, because no one should be able to make Mark feel like that, not ever.

BamBam squeezes Mark’s wrist, and it's a little harder than necessary but so is this conversation. He needs to make sure Mark knows. “People fucking suck. They see someone who’s more successful than them and they pick them apart, pulling at their weaknesses. I don’t know why they do it, or why it happens to you more than anyone. But don’t think for a second that you deserve any of it, because you don’t.”

A tear drips down Mark’s face as he stares at BamBam, dark eyes speaking louder than the silence. BamBam frowns, reaching up to brush the tear away. “You’re crying again,” he whispers.

“So are you.”

BamBam reaches up to his own face and realizes with a laugh that, yeah, he is. “Aren’t we a pair?” he jokes, rubbing under his eyes.

Mark sniffles. “I’m sorry I made you cry.”

Not for the first time, BamBam wonders how Mark is supposedly older than him, because like, someone needs to bubble wrap this boy pronto. Where is the Mark Protection Squad when you need it? “ _You_ didn’t make me cry, Mark. I just don’t like seeing you get hurt.”

At this, more tears slip down Mark’s face.

“Wait, wait, what did I say?” BamBam panics, cupping Mark’s chin.

Mark gives a watery laugh. “No it’s not that, Bam. I’m just.. really happy you’re in the same group as me.”

And now BamBam is also crying harder than before. Great. Although his masca is holding up surprisingly well so that’s a plus. He makes a mental note to slip some more into the shopping cart next time Jaebeom is paying.

“Anyway,” BamBam wipes at his eyes, trying to lighten the mood, “What do you think of your nails? 

Mark looks down at his hands, long fingers complemented with deep purple polish. “Thank you.”

BamBam grins. “The honour was yours, I’m sure. I’m getting pretty good at this whole thing, gonna have to start charging soon.”

Mark shakes his head. “Thank you,” he says again, but this time it’s heavy, and BamBam knows he’s talking about more than just the nails.

“Of course, hyung. Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/demontuan)


	4. Blue

BamBam has been planning his night for the entire car ride home. He’d had a busy day, but it ended early and now he gets to go home to an empty dorm, everyone else still out with their own schedules. It’s not as lonely as it sounds. In fact, BamBam has been looking forward to it. Getting some alone time when you live with six other boys and can’t go out in public without being recognized is harder than you’d think. 

Needless to say, BamBam has planned on having a nice long shower and then blasting his music as loud as he wants. Maybe he’ll even get a chance to catch up on his thai drama that no one lets him watch because they don’t understand. 

But the second BamBam kicks his shoes off at the door and shuffles into the dorm, he knows his evening plans are in danger.

The lights are on, so someone must already be home.

“Hey,” he calls out, dumping his keys on the little rack by the door. He goes into the living room and spots Jinyoung on the couch, tv on but sound on mute.

“Did you eat yet?” BamBam asks, already heading to the kitchen and yanking open the fridge. “‘Cause I’m starving.” He looks at the pathetic selection of food they have and finally settles on an almost edible-looking pork stew.

“Want me to warm you up some stew?” BamBam yells, rummaging around for a bowl, “It’s the pork one Youngjae made last week.”

There’s silence from the other room as BamBam scrapes some stew into a bowl and pops it in the microwave. “Hyung?”

He still doesn’t get a response so he figures that’s answer enough. “More for me,” he mumbles to himself, humming as the microwave timer ticks down. He’s tired even though it’s only six o’clock, his day filled with photoshoots and interviews. 

The food beeps and he takes the bowl in the living room, plopping down beside Jinyoung. “Why are you home so early?” he asks, hoping that he doesn’t sound too disappointed at not having the dorm alone. 

Jinyoung stares straight ahead, eyes aimed at the characters moving across the tv screen, but kind of glossed over like he’s not all there. 

The lack of acknowledgement is starting to get on BamBam’s nerves. He pokes Jinyoung’s side with his spoon. “Hello, earth to Jinyoung-hyung?”

Jinyoung turns his gaze to BamBam. “Don’t touch me,” he says coldly.

“Okay, rude much? You’re the one ignoring me,” BamBam points out, kind of offended.

“Well maybe you should take the hint,” Jinyoung snaps.

BamBam recoils and Jinyoung sighs, features already softening. “Wait, no. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I’ve just… had a bad day.”

BamBam snorts. “I can tell.”

Jinyoung takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s fighting off a headache. BamBam takes one second to mourn his alone time before making up his mind. As much as Jinyoung can be petty (so petty, jesus, this man can hold a grudge like no other) he doesn’t get mad like this for no reason. 

BamBam shovels the rest of the pork stew into his mouth before he asks, “Can I paint your nails?”

Jinyoung frowns at BamBam. “Do I have a choice?”

BamBam grins. He _is_ known for getting his way. “Not really.”

Jinyoung lets out a long suffering sigh, but allows BamBam to pull him up. “Fine.”

_

Royal blue is fitting. BamBam has always thought that Jinyoung looked like a prince. 

He’s only two nails in when Jinyoung starts talking. “I completely fucked the recording session today.”

BamBam dips the brush into the blue polish again and doesn’t look up. “I don’t believe that for a second,” he says.

Jinyoung closes his eyes. “You weren’t there, Bam. It was bad.”

BamBam finishes the first coat on one hand and moves to the other. “Y’know, you’re not giving me much to go on here. What exactly was so bad?”

Jinyoung makes a sound between a groan and a whimper. “I don’t even know, everything. At first it was just my voice that sounded weird and too pitchy, but then my lyrics didn’t even make sense. I decided to take a break and listen to some of my old songs to... I don’t know, get motivated? Inspired? Which by the way was a terrible idea because they’re all shit. How did they even make it on any albums?”

BamBam’s mouth opens in confusion. He watches the older boy carefully. “You have to know how crazy you sound,” he stresses. He knows that they all have their respective insecurities, it comes with being in the public eye 24/7. But this.. he’s never heard Jinyoung talk like this. “You are one of the most talented singer-songwriters I know.”

Jinyoung clenches his hand and it smudges the nail polish but BamBam doesn’t say anything. Instead he puts a hand on Jinyoung’s shoulder. 

Jinyoung shrugs him off. “I know you’re trying to help, but I just get so angry when people say things like that. I listen to my songs and all I can hear are the flaws, all the things I should’ve changed. I just- I get so mad, but the only person I’m mad at is myself. Because nothing I make is ever good enough, yet somehow here we are, seven years into our career. I feel like I’ve faked my way in. Tricked people into liking me.”

BamBam laces his fingers through Jinyoung’s and squeezes, a little hard, but grounding, reassuring. “You haven’t _faked_ anything. All your songs are completely, 100%, you. And sure you might look back and think about all the things you could’ve done differently, but that's not the point. Second guessing yourself never helps anyone. In those moments, when you released those songs, you said exactly what you wanted to.”

Jinyoung gives him a disbelieving look but BamBam shakes his head. “That’s why people like your songs, they can feel the authenticity. You can’t dwell on the past too much. You’re a perfectionist Jinyoung-hyung, nothing is ever good enough for you.”

“I _am_ a perfectionist,” Jinyoung agrees slowly. He holds BamBam’s hand tighter, and by this point there’s blue smudged all over both their hands but neither pull away. “So when it’s perfect, it’ll be good enough.”

BamBam looks into Jinyoung’s eyes, holding his gaze. “Humans are imperfect, you can’t expect them to crank out things that are.”

Jinyoung pauses. 

Then he huffs because dammit, the kid might have a point. He rubs a thumb over BamBam’s hand. “Yeah. That’s just... an easy thing to say and a harder thing to accept.”

BamBam nods. He knows. “I know. And I also know that me telling you that you’re talented won’t do anything. That has to come from you. But you don’t have to let it build up until you snap. You can always talk to me.”

Jinyoung smiles and reaches up to ruffle BamBam’s hair. “When did you get so smart?”

BamBam brushes imaginary lint off his shoulders. “I’ve always been a genius, you guys are only starting to realize it now.”

Jinyoung laughs. BamBam looks down at their hands. “C’mon, we look like smurfs, let me clean this up and start over. Then we can get you looking like the royalty you are.”

“Royalty?” Jinyoung chuckles, “Aren’t _you_ the Prince of Thailand?”

BamBam shrugs. “Prince is more of a mentality than an official title.” He checks his watch. “And it looks like I’ve got all night to teach you my ways.”

Jinyoung groans, but it’s obviously for show if the way a grin spreads across his face says anything. “What have I gotten myself into?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FREEDOM FOR THE SEVENS???  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/demontuan)


	5. Black

_Today is a fantastic day_ , BamBam thinks as he swings his shopping bags back and forth, taking the stairs up to their dorm instead of the elevator, because why not? He had a green smoothie this morning (Jackson would be so proud) and he’s feeling so put together, on top of the world. He might even consider flossing or something later, who knows.

He reaches their dorm and bangs on the door because he’s too lazy to fish around for his key, and it’s the first off-day they’ve had in awhile so he knows that the other members are probably still home resting.

It’s Jackson who opens the door. He pulls BamBam in by the arm, and whispers, “Just go with it,” before turning around and presenting BamBam to Mark like a prize he won at the fair. “Look who it is,” he exclaims, “BamBam’s home. And he said he needs my help with something, right now.”

BamBam bites his lip to keep from laughing and nods earnestly, not fazed by the sudden acting.

“Oh, yes,” he says seriously, “I am in need of immediate assistance. It’s important. A life or death situation you could say.”

Jackson nods along. “So there’s no possible way I could go with you Mark-hyung,” he explains, trying his best to sound reluctant. “I’ve gotta stay and help Bam.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “Nice try, you’re not getting out of this.” He grabs Jackson’s hand and tugs him toward the door, handing him his shoes.

“But you know I hate heights,” Jackson whines.

Mark shrugs on a jacket. “You promised you would go with me. Besides, you can’t really call this a ‘height,’ it’s like barely 200 meters. It’ll be fun.”

“ _It’ll be fun_ ,” Jackson mocks, swinging his hands around. “You said that last week when we went to see that horror movie.”

“And? Wasn’t it fun?”

“No,” Jackson crosses his arms, “It was terrifying and I will never look at clowns the same way again.”

Mark zips up his jacket and aims a pout at Jackson. “Please Gaga,” he coaxes, looking at Jackson with his big dark eyes, “It’s our day off. I’m dying to do something.”

Jackson crumbles the longer Mark pouts. “Fine,” he huffs, “But you’re buying me food after.”

Mark grins. “Deal.” He pulls Jackson out the door before the younger boy can change his mind, throwing a “Bye Bammie,” over his shoulder before the door slams shut.

BamBam laughs and plops himself down at the kitchen table beside Jaebeom, dumping his shopping bags on the floor. “Eventful morning, I see.”

Jaebeom snickers. “Yeah, you never know what's gonna happen when Mark-hyung gets up early.”

“Fair enough,” BamBam agrees, stealing some toast off Jaebeom’s plate. 

“Oh, you did your nails,” Jaebeom points out, looking at BamBam’s glittery nail polish. “They, um, they look nice.”

“Thanks,” BamBam says through a mouthful of toast. He steals another slice off Jaebeom’s plate. Jaebeom hits his hand lightly, but lets him take it.

The older boy studies the table. “Like, professional and stuff.”

BamBam tilts his head because, one; JB put way too much jam on this toast. Like strawberries are great but this is overkill, and two; Jaebeom is acting...strange to say the least. Almost...nervous?

“Thanks,” BamBam says again, eyes narrowing.

“And I saw that you painted Jinyoung’s a few days ago. They were nice too,” Jaebeom mumbles, pushing a piece of potato around on his plate but not eating it.

BamBam frowns. He hasn’t seen their leader like this in a while. Awkward around him like he hasn’t been in years. 

Jaebeom clears his throat. “You um, you’ve almost done all the members. Only a couple left now.”

And _oh._ BamBam gets it. 

A grin spreads on his face. “Did you want me to paint your nails?”

Jaebeom flushes and looks at the ground. “N-no,” he coughs, stuttering, “No I mean, if _you_ wanted to, for like, practice or something I would let you, but _I_ don’t want you to or-”

BamBam cuts him off before he can dig the hole any deeper. “I’ll go grab the polish,” he smiles, eating the last of Jaebeom’s breakfast.

_

They’re on the roof, because although it’s winter, it’s sunny out and BamBam refuses to waste a beautiful day like this cooped up in the dorm room.

There’s a little metal table up there, so they sit down, winter coats on but not zipped up, soaking up the sun rays.

“You know this colour is called ‘ _anime boy black’_ ,” BamBam nods to the little bottle.

Jaebeom has his eyes closed and is leaning back in his chair. He looks like a cat curled up in the sun. “Really?”

BamBam laughs. “No. But it should be.”

A comfortable silence stretches out and BamBam finishes the first coat, blowing on Jaebeom’s fingers lightly before starting the second coat.

“So what’s up with you?” BamBam asks, “I feel like we haven’t talked in a while.”

Jaebeom shrugs. “We talk all the time.”

“You know what I mean. Not in front of cameras or fans. And not about work. Just us, no expectations.”

Jaebeom blinks his eyes open. “Yeah.” He looks up at the clouds. “It’s not you, you know. I guess I haven’t really talked to _anyone_ in a while.”

“Yeah,” BamBam hums. 

“Things have been weird lately,” Jaebeom admits through a sigh.

BamBam pokes Jaebeom’s knee.“Things are always weird. Yesterday I found Yugyeom sleeping in the kitchen because he lost Jinyoung-huyng’s favourite shirt and was hiding from him.”

Jaebeom laughs. “I was wondering why there was a pillow on top of the fridge.” He puffs out a breath. Closes his eyes again, tilting his head back to catch the sun. “Sometimes I feel like I’m living two lives.”

“Like ‘idol-life’ and ‘real-life’?”

Jaebeom scrunches his nose. “Not really. I mean, yeah that too but...more like two personalities. It’s like I have leader JB, who is responsible, and passionate, and silly, and then I have Def, who’s sensitive, and honest, and cool.”

BamBam shrugs. “And?”

“And isn’t that kind of lying?”

BamBam shakes his head. “How so?”

Jaebeom reaches up to run a hand through his hair but then remembers the fresh polish and lowers his hand back down. “It feels like I’m being fake. That when I'm one half, the other has to be pushed down.” He waits a beat. “And I don’t want to be fake, because I’m not one over the other. They’re both a part of me.” 

“Hyung,” BamBam nudges Jaebeom with his foot, “You can’t look at this like a story book character. It’s not like you’re being inconsistent or fake. You’re a human being, with depth and layers. And this thing that you’re talking about, we all get that. It’s so hard to be yourself and who people want you to be all at once.”

Jaebeom laughs derisively. “I don’t know, you guys all seem like you have it together. You know who you are. You’re not having an identity crisis at twenty seven.”

BamBam raises an eyebrow. “Identity crisis? That’s a little dramatic hyung, even for you. If you want to express more of Def, go ahead, we’ll all be there to support you. If you want to fuck off and dye your hair blonde and re-live your JJ Project days, why not? We will all still love you the same.”

A smile tugs at Jaebeom’s lips even as he shakes his head. “You make it sound like it’s easy.”

BamBam takes a long look at Jaebeom. The dark circles under his eyes are so normal that they don’t look out of place. Even like this, when they’re relaxing in the sun, no obligations, Jaebeom’s shoulders have a tense edge to them. “You know it’s okay to ask for help, right?” BamBam asks, feeling like he already knows the other boy’s answer.

Jaebeom tilts head.

“When we were younger,” BamBam explains, “We needed you to be _The Leader™_. We needed guidance, reassurance. But we’re not kids anymore. You don’t always have to have the right answer. Or _any_ answer for that matter. There’s seven of us, not all the responsibility falls on you.”

Jaebeom furrows his eyebrows. “I know that.”

“I don’t think you do,” BamBam says simply. “As much as you’ve invested into this group, so have we. This is more than just a job, it’s… my family. And family leans on eachother,” he continues, looking at Jaebeom like he’s just asked an easy question but Jaebeom still doesn't know the answer, “But lately it feels like you’ve fallen and you’re trying to get back up on your own, even though there’s six hands outstretched ready to help you up if you’d only reach out.”

Jaebeom winces, looks at the ground. His voice is quiet. “How do you know that if I reach out I won’t accidentally pull you down with me?”

BamBam shrugs. “I don’t. But I don’t care. I’d rather fail with my friends than lose and be alone.”

Jaebeom raises his gaze, enough to look into BamBam’s eyes. All he sees is sincerity. 

“BamBam,” Jaebeom breathes out, wanting to thank him but not knowing how to say it.

BamBam smiles. “I know. Just promise me that you’ll reach out next time?”

“I promise,” Jaebeom agrees. He feels lighter than he has in weeks. “And...I already have, kind of.” He looks sheepish. “I asked you to paint my nails, didn’t I?”

BamBam rolls his eyes. “You call that _asking_? I had to practically drag it out of you!”

Jaebeom kicks BamBam lightly. “Whatever,” he smiles. “And, thank you. I.. like having my nails done.”

“Yeah? Which part of you? JB or Def?”

Jaebeom shakes his head. “Neither. Just me, Jaebeom.”

And BamBam smiles so wide his eyes crinkle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/demontuan)


	6. Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the reason why the tags say squint and there's Yugbam...

BamBam isn’t like, staring at Yugyeom or anything. Cause that would be weird and creepy. No, he’s just… observing. Observing Yugyeom’s back muscles as he changes from his sweaty gym shirt into a clean sweater. 

“You’re staring,” Yugyeom says with a grin in his voice, not even having to turn around to know that he’s right. 

“I’m not,” BamBam protests from the ground of their dorm room, paperwork about his latest modeling gig strewn all around him.

Yugyeom turns around and plops down beside BamBam, kicking him with his bare foot. “Are so,” he snickers.

BamBam holds a straight face for about three seconds before he caves and lets his grin show. “It’s not my fault you’re suddenly on a gym kick with Jackson-hyung. I can’t _not_ notice how much you’ve been working out.”

Yugyeom blushes, pleased with the compliment. He looks around at all the papers on the ground. “Need a hand with this?”

BamBam groans. “No. I just have to make sure I go through it thoroughly and read the fine print because lord knows they’ll try and sneak some weird extra clauses in there.”

Yugyeom hums. He picks up a piece of paper and scans the text, frowning. “Doesn’t manger-hyung normally handle all of this?”

“Yeah but I got this deal on my own, not through the company. I’m trying to branch out y’know?”

Yugyeom nods, “Yeah, that’s really cool.” His tone doesn’t sound like it though. It sounds...not jealous per se, more like.. upset?

“But I’ll finish it later,” BamBam declares, gathering all the papers up and putting them on his bed in a messy pile. “Let me paint your nails,” he suggests, wanting to spend some time with the other boy.

Yugyeom’s lips tug up. “Okay.”

_

“I missed this,” Yugyeom says softly, watching as BamBam delicately paints his nails a bright green colour which BamBam thinks is kind of a tragedy but, oh well.

(“ _I want this one!” “What no, I don’t even know why I still have that, it’s ugly. Probably leftover from Halloween or something.” “It’s not ugly! It’s the colour of ahgases!”_ )

“Missed what?” 

“This,” Yugyeom gestures between the two of them, “Us. It used to be just you and me against the world.”

BamBam swallows down the warm feeling those words produce. “It still is,” he says.

Yugyeom frowns. “But it’s not. We have all the members. We have GOT7.”

BamBam isn’t really sure where this is going. “We’ve always had them,” he points out.

“Sure,” Yugyeom shrugs, “But it’s more than that. It’s different. You have Chan and Lisa, and I have Jungkook, and I don’t know.” He looks down at the ground, bangs falling into his eyes. “You’re booking your own modeling gigs, all by yourself. We… we grew up.”

BamBam tilts his head. He and Yugyeom normally share the same wavelength, the same train of thought. This time though, he’s not sure. “I don’t really get what you mean.”

Yugyeom puffs out a breath of frustration. “I don’t know man, I don’t really get it either. I guess I’m just.. worried that I’m not the same kid as I was all those years ago. That the Yugyeom who had so much passion and innocence wouldn’t recognize himself if he saw me now.” His voice gets smaller as he talks and BamBam feels something tug at his heart.

“Gyeom, we’ve all changed. You’re not the same person as you were seven years ago and neither am I. You can’t go through all these experiences, crazy and stressful and wonderful and expect to stay the same.”

Yugyeom’s shoulders hunch in and suddenly he looks a lot smaller than he is, still young, and still trying to figure out who he wants to be. “I guess. Just.. change is hard for me.” He smiles up at BamBam, years of history flashing by in that one look. “You know that better than anyone. Why would I want to change when what we had was so good? I-.. this crazy year…I can’t help but think that I’ve become someone I don’t want to be.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” BamBam assures, voice solid, one hundred percent certain. “This year _has_ been crazy. Absolute bat shit, and for a second there it kind of felt like the world was falling apart. And even among it, you’ve remained positive, and created these amazing songs and choreographies. I _like_ the person you’ve become.”

Yugyeom sighs. “It all feels so forced though. It used to be easy but now…” he trails off, flicking his gaze up to BamBam. BamBam realizes that he’s stopped painting Yugyeom’s nails and is instead laser-focused on his face. A face which is much too sad for BamBam’s liking. 

“I want to be that positive energy for you guys, I do,” Yugyeom insists, like maybe BamBam wouldn’t believe him the first time, “But it’s hard to stay positive when everyone else is going places and you’re just stuck.”

“Stuck...?” BamBam prompts.

Yugyeom’s bottom lip juts out subconsciously. “Don’t act like you haven’t noticed. I get the least solo activities out of all of us, and even when I get them, it always has the least reception.”

They’re both sitting cross-legged on BamBam’s bed, one of Yugyeom’s hands limp in BamBam’s lap, polish on the little beside table forgotten. BamBam takes Yugyeom’s wrist gently, just holding it. He scoots forward so his knees touch Yugyeom’s, and then even further, resting his legs almost on top of the other boy’s. 

“You can’t compare yourself to others, Gyeom.”

Yugyeom doesn’t get mad, rarely even gets annoyed, but the facial expression he’s wearing now is pretty close to it. “Don’t try and go all inspirational on me now, you’re barely six months older than me. You know just as well as I do that we’re all in a constant loop of comparison.” 

Their eyes meet and Yugyeom looks away first, staring at the tiny bit of ink that’s visible on BamBam’s chest from where his shirt hangs loosely. “I’m not upset at you or any of the other members,” Yugyeom whispers, “I’m upset with myself. Because the only reason the company doesn’t give me more solo schedules is because they know they won’t do as well.”

The words barely have time to leave Yugyeom’s mouth before BamBam is contradicting vehemently. “That’s _so_ not true. You can’t look at a number and use it to decide someone’s worth.”

Yugyeom doesn’t look convinced, so BamBam racks his brain for an appropriate example. “Jaebeom-hyung wrote _You Are,_ right, and it’s an amazing song. But it’s also one of our least viewed title tracks. So if you only look at it from a statistics point of view, you could say it didn’t do that well.”

Yugyeom is shaking his head, already frowning. “I love _You Are_ ,” he defends.

BamBam smiles, “Exactly! And if you ask any fan, it’s one of our best comebacks. It resonates with people, Yugyeom, and I don’t need numbers to prove it. Just like _you_ don’t need them to prove your worth.”

Yugyeom looks out from under his bangs. “Yeah,” he hums, “I guess.” He’s quiet for a second before wiggling his fingers on the hand that BamBam’s still holding.

BamBam chuckles and dips his brush back in the polish, starting to paint again. 

“I just wonder what little-Yugyeom would say if he saw me now,” Yugyeom admits quietly.

“Well,” BamBam starts, looking up at the one person who knows him better than he knows himself, “I don’t know about little-Yugyeom, but I _do_ know about little-BamBam, and he would say the same thing as back before debut, the same thing that he’s always said. That you, Kim Yugyeom, are my best friend in the whole world, and you’ve taught me so much.”

BamBam pauses for a second, watches as Yugyeom’s eyes fill with tears. “And also that you’re an annoying little shit who needs to keep his paws to himself, because don’t think I didn’t notice that my super secret stash of candy bars went missing,” he adds.

Yugyeom cackles, squirming off of BamBam’s bed. “Now BamBam, how could I possibly eat them if it was a _secret_ ?” he asks, before running out into the hallway.

BamBam lunges, grin splitting his face. “Oh it’s _on!_ ” he yells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/demontuan)


	7. Rainbow

BamBam, by nature, is not a quiet person.

He likes the sound of a good laugh, the bustle of a busy market, the roar of the crowd at a concert. Noise seems to enter his body and fill up his bloodstream until all that’s left is music.

BamBam is loud, and he likes it that way.

Which is why, after the third day of BamBam avoiding everyone like the plague and curling up in his bed after schedules, alarm bells start to go off.

“Get up,” Jinyoung says, reaching out a hand to pull Yugyeom up. He’s been sitting at the foot of his shared room with BamBam, guarding it these past three days like some sort of watch dog. 

“He’s sleeping,” Yugyeom informs Jinyoung, sounding oddly defensive. 

Jinyoung sighs, looking at Yugyeom with a mix of sympathy and understanding. “I know. But we have to do s _omething_.”

_

From underneath his blanket, BamBam can hear a muffled conversation outside his door. It ends with two sets of footsteps walking away. 

Which means that even Yugyeom- who has been sitting on the other side of the wood, always only a whisper away, loyal to BamBam like no other- has given up on him. Decided he’s not worth it. Left. 

BamBam pulls the blanket tighter around himself. He feels like crying, but all that escapes is a self deprecating laugh. He should have known. Nothing good can last, right?

_

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing BamBam hears is a bunch of shuffling outside his door and then a shriek of pain. 

“That was my foot!” Jackson whisper-yells. 

“Well you’re in the way,” Youngjae whisper-yells back, annoyed and equally as not-quiet as Jackson. 

“Will you two be quiet?” Jinyoung hisses, “You’re going to wake him up!”

“I thought we were trying to wake him up?” And that’s Yugyeom, sounding confused as ever.

Jaebeom groans, and there’s a little thump on the door that BamBam would guess is Jaebeom knocking his head on the wood in frustration, “We are but not like, just- urgh nevermind. Let’s go.”

The door creaks open and BamBam pretends that he’s still asleep. 

Until suddenly the light switch flicks on and the room is blasted with a familiar Blackpink song, and there’s various obnoxious yelling sounds.

It’s a lot to process, especially after just waking up.

He comes out from his blanket shield, blinking his eyes open in confusion. “What’s all this?”

He looks around and sees Yugyeom placing a tray full of his favourite Thai dishes on his bedside table. Jackson is in the corner messing with the speaker, Jaebeom and Mark are pulling out a case of beer, and Youngjae and Jinyoung have started playing a game of cards on the floor. 

It’s- he knows what this is. Or maybe not _what_ exactly, but _why_. Because BamBam has been sad and mopey and anyone who knows BamBam knows that he loves surprises. 

The members threw him a surprise party.

Yugyeom shuffles his feet looking overwhelmingly sheepish. “It’s been ages since we’ve all just got together and let loose, you know? So I said we could use our room for the party? Is that.. I hope that’s okay?” he asks, voice concerned like maybe he read the signs wrong. 

Like maybe this isn’t the nicest thing someone has done for BamBam in a long time.

Before BamBam can nod, Mark is plopping down on his bed and snagging a basil roll off the tray. “Yeah you don’t really have a choice,” he says, nudging BamBam with his shoulder. “I already made a bet that Jinyoung will get drunk first and start showing off his grandpa dance moves.”

BamBam snorts. “Easy money, Jinyoung-hyung can’t hold his alcohol for shit.”

Jinyoung doesn’t look up from the card game. “I would like to remind you of all the blackmail I have from that one hotel in Melbourne, Bam,” he says from the floor, placing down an Ace of spades without missing a beat. 

BamBam snickers but holds his hands up in surrender. “No need for such drastic measures.” To Mark, he leans over and whispers, “Make sure to record it.”

And then Jackson changes the playlist and suddenly BamBam’s favourite song is on and Yugyeom is pulling him up and out of bed. “Let’s dance!”

And he does. He lets himself get lost in the music, jumping and screaming like it’s a concert and not their dorm room. He lets Yugyeom twirl him around, lets Mark place a cold beer in his hand, lets Youngjae sway with him to the beat of the song. 

As the night goes on his muscles feel looser, his thoughts lighter. 

When it’s late and the food is gone and everyone is pleasantly buzzed and tired, Jaebeom comes into the room with BamBam’s bag of nail polish, sending him a grin. 

Everyone else is still doing their own thing, curled up and talking, giggling about things that maybe aren’t that funny. 

Jaebeom sits down cross-legged on the floor beside BamBam. He pulls out a nice teal coloured polish. “May I?”

BamBam smiles lazily, presenting his hand. “Of course.”

Jaebeom is a little sloppy, getting polish all around BamBam’s nail, but it’s obvious that he’s making an effort. 

“You made me promise that I would reach out if I needed help,” Jaebeom says, keeping his voice low, “But it’s a two way street. What’s been going on?”

BamBam puffs out a breath. “Nothing.”

Jaebeom raises an unimpressed eyebrow, leveling him with a look.

“Really,” BamBam insists. “I’ve just been in my head too much, been reading into what others say.”

Jaebeom gives him a sympathetic smile. “Look I know that you don’t like to show it, and you like to hide behind your humour and craziness, but I know that you feel it too.” 

BamBam does. He feels it so much. It’s easier to ignore when you’re loud, when you don’t give yourself a second to stop and think, when you’re always on the move. 

It’s worse though, because then when you do pause, even for a moment, the voices come back. They fill his ears, a constant stream of negativity dripping down his insides and covering them with hate. So much so that sometimes all he can do is curl up under a blanket and wait till the sun comes out.

Jaebeom is studying him now, concerned filled eyes watching his movements. “Bam, you’re just… you’ve grown so much, but sometimes I look at you and I still see that little fourteen year old trainee, with a big smile and a bigger heart, and I just... I want to shield you from it. From the world.” His voice sounds older now, tired from having lived with this cruelty for so long, disappointed that others are experiencing the same thing. “I’m not naive enough to think that’s possible, but if it was, I would. I would make sure no one could ever hurt you again.”

BamBam bites his lip, hopes that Jaebeom can’t see how wet his eyes are.

Jaebeom stops painting now, looking directly at BamBam. “I’m gonna let you in on a secret, one softy to another; sometimes you just need someone to hug you and tell you it’s gonna be okay.”

Which is why in the next second Jaebeom is leaning forward and wrapping his arms around BamBam, squeezing him tight to his chest. “It’ll be okay, BamBam-ah,” he whispers, voice steady, certain. “You’re not alone.”

BamBam doesn’t say anything, just squeezes back twice as tight. 

They pull apart and both pretend like neither of their eyes are glossy, that neither of their cheeks are flushed. Jaebeom picks the polish back up.

BamBam lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Because, Jaebeom is right. He’s _not_ alone. He has a family, and they’re all right here in this room.

And maybe, if you have enough people in your corner, ready to fight for you, good things _can_ last.

“Wait, you’re letting _Jaebeom_ paint your nails?” Jackson exclaims incredulously, swooping down clumsily to sit beside them, “The one with arguably the worst art skills?”

Jaebeom swats Jackson’s arm. “Hey. I take offense to that.”

Jinyoung raises an eyebrow, surprisingly judgmental considering he was doing drunk karaoke only twenty minutes ago. “Hyung, I’ve seen your drawings before. He’s not wrong.”

“Whatever, BamBam thinks I’m good, right?” Jaebeom huffs.

BamBam shrugs. “They look fine.”

Youngjae bounds over, sorting through the bag for his favourite colour. “I wanna try!” 

“Yeah you’ve gotta let me do you,” Jackson begs, blinking up at BamBam.

Mark snorts. “That’s what she said.”

“Shut up.”

Soon everyone is piled around BamBam, all cuddled up to him, fighting over who gets to paint which finger. 

It’s messy and mismatched and there’s absolutely too many clashing colours, but BamBam just laughs, egging on the chaos by saying, _wow, you’re definitely the best_ , but then not telling them who it was directed at. 

The members don’t retreat to their own rooms when the polish dries. Instead they stay close to BamBam, holding him until he falls asleep.

_

BamBam keeps the nail polish on all week until it’s chipped and peeling, and even then he’s reluctant to take it off. 

A couple days later he’s scrolling through twitter idly and comes across a fan taken photo of himself. His eyes are all scrunched up in a smile and his hands are on full display. 

BamBam looks at his ridiculously ugly nail polish, and all he sees is love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this before all the news came out, but I am so incredibly proud and happy for our boys. Truly they deserve to be treated with respect and I wish them all the best for the future!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/demontuan)


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